


Atsumu's Story

by Obsidian_Arrowhead



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 1 2 3 4 5 Method, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Haikyuu Timeskip, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hence the title, I love y'all, Implied Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou - Freeform, Incest, Kansai Dialect, Life Changing Event, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu-centric, Mysophobia, Non-Consensual Touching, PLEASE HEED THE TAGS, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Assault, Recovery, Sexual Assault, Swearing, Trigger words, also their dad doesnt really have any lines so thats why hes not tagged, also... i havent actually read the timeskip, and have fun, anywho-, as they slowly get darker, at any rate, basically i had a lot of fun with this while also like... well you can read the tags-, but also sexual assault and rape etc are all horrible and happen way too often-, but never written it, but stay safe, but uh, can be read as platonic SakuAtsu, enjoy, good luck (;, hope i dint miss that but i may have so let me know haha, i always forget to tag that whoops- i think its in all my fics tho?, i mean ive thought up stuff, idk - Freeform, idk i love angst but ive never written anything like this, if you skip the end bit, ill probably add more tags who knows-, ive just read some of the one off parts when i wanted information, lemme know (:, let me know if i should change anything, like i cannot comprehend how someone could-, literally change others lives forever and not for the better at all, most - Freeform, of sorts, oh i tagged major character death and explicit to be safe, oh the bet is a timeskip thing hehe, oh whoops-, please please please be safe, plus Suna nd Komori, possibly?, relatively, so please again stay safe, the Miya twins' bet, the captains being glorious, trigger name, we all love Kita y'all admit it, well anywho-, well i think haha again i havent actually read the timeskip so, yknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsidian_Arrowhead/pseuds/Obsidian_Arrowhead
Summary: Atsumu tells his story.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke & Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu & Meian Shuugo, Miya Atsumu & Miya Atsumu's Aunt, Miya Atsumu & Miya Atsumu's Parents, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Miya Atsumu's Aunt, Miya Atsumu/Original Female Character(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Atsumu's Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is... probably my darkest story yet, but I came up with the idea and there was no way I was letting myself get away with it just sitting there, so... here you go!
> 
> Please heed the tags, and let me know if I need to add anything.
> 
> Also the sexual assault Atsumu experiences happens when he's very young, but I'm not trying to say there are any exceptions. It can happen to anyone, at any time, regardless of who does it and who they do it to. Some instances are more minor, but they can still leave just as big an impact on someone. That doesn't make you weak whatsoever.
> 
> Now is probably a good time to say that I personally have not been raped or sexually assaulted to this degree, I just kinda stuck myself in Atsumu's head and went 'welp, here we go,' so, again, if anyone requires me to change something then I will do so.
> 
> Stay safe, I love y'all, and please enjoy (:

When the twins are seven, Osamu gets sick. It's not horrible, and not life threatening, but it's bad enough that their parents have to take him away for two nights to… somewhere. Atsumu can never quite remember _where_ they went.

Because that's not what this story is about.

They don't take Atsumu with them, because it's reasonably far away, and the twins are seven, and they don't want to disrupt both of their lives, if they can help it.

They leave Atsumu in the care of his father's sister.

She calls him Tsu.

She’d called him Tsu since him and Osa - her name for Osamu - were born. Even a little bit before that.

It’s always been a cutesy little nickname that they have yet to call uncool, because they’re seven. And still pretty damn similar. When they’re seven, they have yet to dye their hair. They’ve both started volleyball and have about the same amount of interest in it. They view each other as the perfect built-in best friend, even when sometimes they’ll call each other names.

When they’re seven, they’re basically the same person.

When they’re seven, life is different. It’s happy, and they’re innocent, and they’re happy, and they’re _seven_.

And then Osamu gets sick. Again, not badly sick, and that’s not what we’re here to talk about today, but it’s enough for him and their parents to have to leave for a few days.

Now, the twins don’t have all that many relatives. They have each other, and their parents, but their grandparents are all either dead or too far away for impromptu babysitting, and their parents only have one sibling between them.

This sibling is the twins’ aunt, their dad’s sister, and she’s really nice. She calls them Osa and Tsu respectively, buys them birthday and Christmas presents (and sometimes extra presents), goes with them to the temple every New Years, and has babysat them once or twice before.

She’s just never babysat one of them alone.

But it’s fine, they both love her, and Osamu’s kinda sad he has to miss her, actually, and Atsumu’s happy to get some time with just his aunt.

She’s his aunt, after all. This is gonna be fun!

.

And it is fun, at first. They play stuff, but not volleyball (because she doesn’t know how, and the weather’s a bit spotty, she doesn’t like going outside when the clouds threaten rain), and all in all it just is _really fun_.

The first night, she lets him sleep in the lounge, on the couch, and it feels like breaking the rules and he loves it (Osamu would love it too, and there’s that feeling only a sibling can truly describe when he realises this. It makes his grin just a little wider, even as he does love his brother, and even as they wait for him to come back home). They watch movies until past his bedtime, when he falls asleep, happy, and then the next morning he gets to pick breakfast.

He _never_ gets to pick breakfast.

So, it’s fun. Really, really fun.

Until it’s not.

It’s fun until she says she likes him, and he says he likes her too, auntie, of course he does, and she says she maybe even _loves_ him, and he giggles and says he loves her too. And then she says she likes him more than _Osa_ , and he doesn’t think anyone’s ever said that to him before, and he positively _beams_ (twinship pervades everything, after all. Sibling rivalries are impossible to avoid, he’s always thought, always will, even after…).

“I like ya more than him, too, auntie!” He says, because it seems only fair.

And then she starts peppering his face with little kisses, and he laughs and tries to shove her away, because it’s _embarrassing_ , even if there’s no one there.

This, technically, could still be fun.

But it’s not.

None of it will be remembered as fun.

All because of what happens next.

Because she _accidentally_ kisses the side of his mouth, and then she giggles and pulls back a bit and says, “sorry, Tsu,” but then she does it again.

And then she kisses his neck.

And then she _licks_ his neck.

“Auntie, stop-”

“C’mon Tsu, I really like ya, y’know. Don’t ya really like me too?”

“Y-yeah, bu-”

And then she kisses his mouth, again, and then her hand comes up the front of his shirt. It rides up a bit.

“Aunti-”

“Sshhh, Tsu, ‘s’ok.”

And then one of her fingers goes over his left nipple, and he jerks a bit, and he doesn’t know what this is, at all, but he knows he doesn’t like it.

“S-stop, auntie, please-”

“C’mon, Tsu,” and then her other hand finds its way to his pants, and slips inside, and touches his-

“Stop!” He yells, and then, because she’s still not listening, he whacks her in the face with his right hand, his spiking hand (because he’s yet to have developed that _drive_ , because he’s yet to choose setter, because he is _seven_ ), as hard as he can.

Which isn’t all that hard, because, again, he is _seven_ , but he’s running on adrenaline and he has the advantage of surprise.

Surprise, because she’s clearly not expecting it, because she moves back, and the hand that’s been down his pants comes up to her face as the other’s nails dig into his front, but this is his _chance_ , and he scrambles away, adrenaline and fear and the desire to just _get away_ all propelling him to his and Osamu’s room, faster than he’s ever moved before in his life (but not faster than he will ever move, evidently, because tonight he learns a lot of harsh truths and half-truths and conceived truths, and tonight he will lose a lot of things, a lot of innocence, a lot of happiness, but he will not lose volleyball. No, she gives him volleyball, instead, and that was her mistake (if she truly is trying to tear him down. Which she’s not. But she does, mostly, anyway, without even _trying_ ). He could call it a scary thought, that she could do all that without trying, but he never truly sees just how much of a mess she’s made him. Until it’s a bit too late, that is, because she’d still, inadvertently, given him volleyball, and that is the one thing he will never learn of her, and this night).

He gets into the shared room and slams the door shut, but he can hear her following him, and he eyes the window beside his and Osamu’s bunk bed. He runs over, somehow manages to get it open (because he’s always struggled with that window, but he will not, not ever again. Maybe because it’s never quite shut, after this), and then he climbs out and hides in the garden.

He sees her stick her head out said window, and then sigh, and pull it back towards the house (because she has looked up and seen what he can not, in his panic), not quite the whole way shut, but close enough for him to think it is.

“I’m sorry, Tsu. I got carried away. Just be back inside before tomorrow morning,” she calls, because that’s when his parents get back (and they both know it), and he whimpers just a bit.

Then, it starts raining.

.

He doesn’t get back inside before the next morning, but he does manage to see his parents and Osamu before _she_ does.

“Mumma!”

“Hi, Atsumu, dear. How was your time with auntie?”

“W-well…”

But they’re already heading inside, with Osamu, and then auntie is gone, for now, and he’ll never have to see her by himself again, because she only ever babysits the both of them together from then on.

He never says anything.

He doesn’t even realise it was _wrong_ , he just knew he didn’t like it.

She never brings it up, so he doesn’t either, and then she dies when he’s sixteen, anyway.

It seems too late, by then.

He’s still at her funeral, and he _is_ sad, it’s just… well.

He’d learnt quite a few things over those ten or so minutes, things that would stick with him forever.

    1. He never wanted to be called _Tsu_ again.
    2. He didn’t want anyone to _like_ him, let alone _love_ him.
    3. He doesn’t care if someone likes Osamu more than him… in fact he prefers it, if they tell him that (regardless of the truth, even if he wants it to be the truth, _needs_ them to like ‘Samu more).
    4. People don’t listen to words, only to actions.
    5. He doesn’t like kisses, or people touching him.
    6. He _especially_ doesn’t like people touching his neck.
    7. Anything that’s fun won’t last that way.
    8. Their parents are more focused on Osamu than him (which isn’t always true, but…).
    9. People can’t be trusted, no matter how much you love them or know them.
    10. Rain is good, and outside is good, but it’s also scary, especially at night.
    11. It gets really cold outside at night.
    12. _She_ doesn’t like volleyball, which means it can only be good.
    13. His house isn’t as safe as it seems.



Of course, objectively, they’re not all true all the time, for all people, and more than half of them aren’t even conscious thoughts, but they stay forever.

They’re what turns _Tsu_ , seven year old twin, into Miya Atsumu, still a twin but also now a volleyball star.

They’re what makes him who he is.

Those less-than-ten minutes, and every moment after.

That’s what makes him into the person everyone sees now.

One experience, and he becomes essentially an entirely different person.

And no one notices, because it happens while they’re away, and then while they’re fretting over Osamu, and by the time his twin joins him back at school, about a week after, any changes can just be put down to missing his brother and his parents, or feeling left out, or something.

His parents say they know it must have been hard, but please don’t take that out on others, they won’t like you for it, and he doesn’t say that’s good, that’s what he wants, because it’s still only a subconscious thought.

By the time he’s in high school, when _she_ dies, he’s long since concreted his place as someone who doesn’t give a shit what others think, who doesn’t want friends (but is stuck with his twin), and who will show up to practice regardless of how sick he is.

Essentially, the opposite to his twin.

He cries at her funeral, and his brother does too, and then he can’t fall asleep that night, but he goes to morning volleyball practice the next day anyway (alone, because ‘Samu is still asleep, and he couldn’t blame him, really, so for once he’s not a dick on purpose and he doesn’t wake his brother up).

Kita makes him go home, because he looks sick, and he avoids their couch and their room (which Osamu is still in, though asleep or not is to be debated), and just goes and lies outside.

It’s not raining that day.

.

Life passes, and he lives, and he joins a pro volleyball team fresh out of high school, the MSBY Black Jackals, and they're not his friends but they’re as close as he gets to them (because he doesn’t want them to love him, or like him, but maybe some type of respect is… mostly alright?).

They call him Atsumu, or sometimes ‘Tsumu, like his brother does, occasionally Tsum-Tsum, or Atsu, Atsu-kun, Atsu-san, Atsumu-san, Atsumu-kun, but mostly just Atsumu.

And then Sakusa joins them, and he’s called him Omi since high school (it annoys him, but doesn’t hurt him), and then everyone else jumps on board too. Kinda.

Atsumu exclusively calls him Omi-kun, or Omi-Omi, but everyone else switches between names, like they do for him.

And this, supposedly, is how Bokkun - aka Bokuto, who usually calls him Tsum-Tsum - comes up with the idea to re-nickname everyone.

And this is how Bokuto yells (because he only ever really yells) across the changing room, one random day in July or something - he doesn’t keep track of the date unless they’ve got a game coming up, and it’s the off-season - _that_ name.

“Hey, Tsum-Tsum, what about Tsu?!”

He says it like he’s just had a brilliant idea, and maybe he has, in his own eyes, but this is just… not.

Several things happen at once; Sakusa raises an eyebrow, though without looking up, Bokuto’s face goes from enthusiastic to confused and a bit worried, and Hinata jumps over to Atsumu.

Atsumu, meanwhile, lets go of his shirt - which he’d been halfway through taking off - and it falls back down to sit properly. His eyes widen, and then collapse, scrunching shut tightly. He flinches, a full body flinch, and his hands go to cover his ears and neck. He curls in over himself, just a bit.

“Atsumu-kun?” Meian, their captain (because all of his captains have always been _great_ -), asks. “Are you ok?”

“Uh,” he says, because he’d still heard that (because captain-power), and the locker room is silent now, all staring at him.

He pinks a bit.

“I-I’m fine, Meian-san. Just, _please_ , don’t call me that, Bokkun.”

And then he grabs his stuff, and speedwalks back to the dorms, not bothering, in the end, to actually get changed.

He’s glad it’s the end of practice, ‘cause that means he doesn’t have to worry about missing anything, and also that it’s about 6pm, which is both a blessing and a curse.

He drops his bag on his bed, when he gets back to said dorms, because he’d moved from home - but not all that far - and into the space shared by the whole team, pretty much, about as soon as he’d joined them.

Then he paces, quite a bit, trying to calm down, because she’d died when he was sixteen, that was seven years ago, and no one had called him Tsu since.

She hadn’t even called him Tsu for a while, after Osamu started complaining about Osa, and he was pretty sure she’d stopped altogether a few years before she’d died, so really no one had called him Tsu in ten years, or so, and he’s 23 now, he hadn’t been seven for sixteen years, but he’s still freaking out.

Eventually, he decides to have a shower, and then he puts on a really big hoodie and sweatpants, but then his hair drips on his neck and he nearly jumps out of his skin, and _fuck_ this is not working.

So he dries his hair, and tries to sleep, and isn’t sure if he succeeds or not, but then he sits up, because he can’t just lie there anymore, it’s really freaking him out, actually, and he feels really hot, and takes his hoodie off, puts a tshirt on, which also just freaks him out _more_ , so he makes his way to the communal kitchen and plonks himself on one of the benches, thunking his head back against the wall and screwing his eyes shut again.

“Atsumu?” He hears, and in this state it’s just really not going well for him, so he essentially leaps off the counter, wide eyes searching the kitchen, until they land on-

Oh. It’s just Omi.

“O-Omi-kun, what’re ya doin’ ‘ere?” He asks, his accent thicker than usual because he is, again, _freaking out_ , now is just not the time-

“Are you ok, Atsu?” Omi asks, and when he just stares, a wee bit spaced out, Omi offers him a green tea.

“S-ure, thanks.”

He must be _really_ out of it, since when does he say _thanks_ (or _please_ , in that vein, and in _that_ voice)?

So Omi makes him a green tea, and Atsumu tries to calm down, and he’s barely taken a single sip when he puts the mug back on the counter and grips the edge of it, tight, eyes screwed shut again.

Maybe he wants to vomit. That seems like it’d fit with the general theme of the night.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Omi asks, and he’s being really great but now is just not the time, and then he feels wetness on his cheeks and oh _fuck_ , he’s started crying, and in front of _Omi_ , pretty much the most stone-cold person you’ll ever _meet_ , and he finds himself just sinking to the floor, then, leaning his right side against the wall of the counter.

He vaguely hears a mug being set down, but then Omi kneels in front of him and reaches out toward the front of his left shoulder, which is basically his chest, kinda (it must be bad, geez, since when does Sakusa Kiyoomi _touch_ people?!), and he flinches away before Omi _can_ touch him.

“P-please d-” he mumbles, arms moving up automatically to shield himself.

“Sorry,” Omi-kun replies, and they sit in silence, except for Atsumu’s breathing rapidly picking up pace until Omi says something else. “Atsu, what’s five things you can see?”

“W-h-at?”

“Can you tell me five things you can see?” he asks, slightly desperately (not that Atsumu can pick up on that, right now).

“U-h. Y-you, the fl-oor, the counter, the w-wall, m-e-e?”

“Ok, good. What’s four things you’re touching?”

“Th-uh- the f-loor, count-er, my top-”

And then he has to squeeze his eyes shut, and his breath hitches, and Omi breaks through his thoughts again.

“It’s ok, what’s two more things?”

He swallows thickly, and looks up at the ceiling, and then buries his head between his knees because stretching his neck out is a no-no right now-

“Uh-uh… m-e, I can feel me, and uh- w-water?” From the tears, he doesn’t say.

“That’s good, ok. What’s three things you can hear?”

“Y-ou. My breathe-breathing, uh- the microwave.” Because that microwave _never_ shuts up, it’s so annoying-

“Good. Two things you can smell.”

“Uh. Sweat? A-and, sani...sanitiser?” It’s his sweat, and Omi’s sanitiser, and he definitely likes the smell of the sanitiser much more right now.

“Good, now what’s one thing you can taste?”

“Uh- salt?” Again from the tears, he doesn’t say.

“Ok, that’s good, Atsu. You did really good. Now just breathe, ok? Breathe.”

And he does, and it’s a little bit easier with each breath, and then Omi asks, tentatively, if he wants a hug.

He shakes his head, quite rapidly, but then hides it again, and then he slowly holds out his right hand, his palm facing toward Omi and fingers curled over slightly.

Omi takes his hand in his own, and Atsumu interlaces their fingers, and then he starts talking, because he can’t just keep it inside any longer. Becausehe’s kept it locked inside for _so long_ , and he just doesn’t think he _can_ , anymore.

“Wh-when… uh. Osamu got sick, when we were s-even, and our parents took ‘im away for a bit to- somewhere. I don’ really ‘member.” Ok, he’s slurring a bit, but that’s fine, he thinks. That’s ok. This is _Omi_ , and while normally that wouldn’t mean much, to him (whether it was Omi or his brother), Omi had _listened_ , and he’s still listening now, and he needs to say it, so this is ok. It feels ok. He thinks it’s ok. It must be ok, right?!

“Mhm,” Omi says, and Atsumu continues.

“Well they were away, so our uh-our aunt, she came over, to take care of me, and uh- the, the second night, that, that she was there- the second night she was there, she uh, like…” He takes a deep breath, and squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, and Omi squeezes his hand, but he can see it, see _her_ , behind his eyes, and it terrifies him, so he opens his eyes back up and looks at a currently very blurry Omi-kun.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Omi whispers, but Atsumu shakes his head.

“I think I n-eed to. I’ve just never…”

“Never told anyone before?”

He nods, and Omi gives him the softest smile he’s ever seen, let alone from Mr. Glare-at-you-when-we’ve-just-won-a-big-game-Omi. “That’s ok, Atsu. Take your time.”

So he takes more breaths, deep breaths, and squeezes Omi-Omi’s hand, and then he shuts his eyes again because he doesn’t want to see the other’s reaction.

“Well, she… first she was just, like, nice and all, and then she said she liked me, said she loved me, said she liked me better than ‘Sa- better than ‘Samu,” he breathes in deeply again, and Omi’s grip on his hand tightens, and his tightens right back. “And then she- uh. She started kissin’, like, all over my face, an’, an’ then she kissed my mou-th, and I didn’t really know what-I didn’t know what she was doin’, ‘cause I was like seven, or somethin’, but I didn’ like ih’, and she wouldn’ stop, an’ then she- she, she _licked my neck_ ,” he says, and then pauses for another few deep breaths, not once looking up at Omi.

“An’, an’ then she like- uh. She put her hands up my top, and then in my pants and-” and he takes another deep breath, and then he finishes. “An’ then I got ta whack ‘er, and I don’ think she ‘spected tha’, an’ then I ran away an’ I hid in the garden, in the bushes.” And he might not be looking at Omi-kun, but he can feel his eyes on him. It isn’t scary, right now, somehow.

“An’ then it started rainin’,” he adds at the end, slightly hysterically, and almost laughing. “I didn’ even know _what_ she was- I just didn’ like it, Omi-Omi, an’ I’m so glad I got outside-” and then he starts crying again, hot, thick tears pouring from his eyes, and sobs coming from his mouth, and his body keeps twitching.

Omi’s grip on his hand is tight now, really tight, and grounding, and he likes it.

“I’m really glad you got away, too,” Omi whispers. “And I’m really glad you told me, Atsu. But I’m so sorry that happened to you. That shouldn’t have happened to you.”

And he nods, and then he moves onto his knees and throws his arms around Kiyoomi’s stomach, resting his head on his chest and squeezing.

The tears keep coming.

Omi takes a sharp breath in, then lets it out slowly, and then cautiously brings one hand to Atsumu’s back and the other to land in his hair. He flinches, just a bit, but it’s fine, he just hugs Omi tighter. He seems to get the message, if the palm running slowly, soothingly up and down a plane on his back and the fingers slowly carding through his hair are any indication.

Atsumu keeps sobbing, for a long time, and finally getting all of that- all of it, out of his system. Everything that’s built up for sixteen long years, he’s able to let it all out that night, sitting on the communal kitchen floor of the MSBY Black Jackals’ dorms and clinging onto Sakusa Kiyoomi like his life depends on it.

Eventually, though, he runs out of tears, and then there’s just dry sobs, and a few hiccups, and then he loosens his grip, just a bit.

“Can-can we get off the floor?” He mumbles, and somehow Omi hears him, and helps them both stand up.

“Do you want to go to your room?”

Atsumu shakes his head, quickly, and looks up at Omi for the first time since before he’d finally talked about _it_.

“Y-yours?” He asks, quietly, and Omi takes his hand again and leads him there, sitting down on his bed while Atsumu hesitates.

“Are you…?” Omi asks, confused, but he’s clearly not _ok_ , why would he be, so he doesn’t ask that.

“Shower?” Atsumu asks, slightly louder than before but still every bit as timid.

“Sure,” Omi says, and somehow Atsumu ends up in a pair of Omi’s sweatpants and one of his neon-yellow hoodies, and then his head ends up in Omi’s lap (his hair blow dried thanks, again, to Omi), and that’s how he falls asleep, not happy per se but definitely more balanced than he had been.

They’d been watching movies, but different to how he’d watched movies with _her_ , and he’d fallen asleep at some point during the second, feeling safer on Omi’s bed, on Omi’s lap, than he had in a very, very long time.

.

Omi suggests he talk to someone, a real someone, a therapist, and he says he’ll think about it, and, eventually, he does talk to one.

It really does help, actually.

He still doesn’t know how to tell anyone else, or Osamu (especially Osamu), but that’s ok. He’s getting there.

Also, he thanks Omi. A lot. And then Omi tells him to stop thanking him, and he does, but he doesn’t, in his head, and sometimes out loud (he also apologises, because he knows about Omi’s mysophobia, but that’s when he learns that it’d always been that much more manageable, when it came to him (and that helps, somehow)).

Bokkun keeps calling him Tsum-Tsum, and apologises for calling him Tsu, even though he doesn’t know _why_ he’s apologising, and it’s ok.

It’s ok.

For the first time in a long time, _he_ is ok. And he’s learning. And he’s getting there.

And then he _wants_ to tell people, even if he doesn’t know how.

So he talks to Omi, and his therapist, because that has worked pretty well every other time, actually, and maybe he does have people he considers friends now. Maybe that’s ok.

Maybe.

.

He does have friends, and people who like him and who he likes (which kind of _is_ the definition of a friend, isn’t it), and it’s… it’s _ok_ , not perfect, but ok, and then he has an interview.

And he’s absolutely terrified, he is, because there is _no way_ Osamu _won’t_ see it, and a very good chance that the majority of the world _will_ see it, which means _his parents_ , and anyone else he knows, and the _team_ (his team… his _teams_ ), but it’s _important_. It is so, so important. So he does it. He tells the world.

He’s absolutely about to shit his pants the whole time, actually, but it’s ok, and he gets through it, and then he hugs Omi, and then they go back and watch movies on Omi’s bed.

The interview goes live two days later.

They’re watching it together, Omi and him.

The first call he gets is from Osamu.

.

He’s on Omi’s bed again, because over the last three years or so that has become his safe place, and the 2021 Olympics have just finished, and his phone rings, and it’s Osamu.

He stares at it for a bit, because he knows why ‘Samu’s calling, but the airing hasn’t even _finished_ (which he knows because it’d been on silent, just with captions, but they’d been watching it), and once again he is absolutely _petrified_.

“Omi…” he breathes, and Omi picks the phone up. Slowly, he presses the answer button, so Atsumu has a chance to stop him, but he doesn’t, and then he puts the phone up to his ear.

Atsumu can’t hear what Osamu’s saying, but he hears Omi say “it’s Sakusa,” and then “I’ll ask.”

He nods before Omi can say anything else, and Omi hands the phone over to him, wordlessly tangling their fingers together again, leaning his left shoulder against Atsumu’s right, grounding him.

He takes a deep breath, and then.

“‘Samu?”

“‘Tsumu! Hi! I, uh-”

“So ya saw the interview already, huh?” He lets out a small breath that sounds something like it might be a laugh, and then speaks again. “I dunno what I expected, really.”

“‘Tsumu?”

“Yeah, ‘Samu?”

“I-I’m really sorry.”

“For what? Not like ya could’a done anything,” he replies, because that has to be _very clear_ , because he will not let his twin think any of this was his fault (because sibling rivalries, yes, but brothers even more so, and twins most of all).

“N-o, but. That shouldn’t’a happened. Not- not to _anyone_ , not to _ya_.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But it did. And- and I’m ok now. Mostly. I got Omi, and ya, and the team - both teams, and I got a therapist, and y’all are great. All of ya.”

“‘Tsumu…”

“Yeah,” he says. Not a sigh this time, just a fact. He knows.

They sit there for a while, just listening to each other breathe through the phone.

“I’m- I’m gonna come see ya soon, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu says, breaking their silence.

“Ok.”

“Next week?”

“All I’ve got is training, so come whenever.”

“Ok. I’ll call.”

“Ok.”

“I… I love ya, ‘Tsumu.”

“Love ya too, ‘Samu.”

And then he hangs up.

There are a few stray tears that fall down his face, and then Omi wipes them away, and Atsumu turns to him, and then he smiles, and that’s how he knows that it’ll be ok.

It’ll be _ok_.

There’s still the team, and the world, and his parents, but Osamu has always been his other half. Now that he knows, it seems to be just that much bit better (he’ll probably bring Suna, and that will be ok, too).

There’ll still be his parents' guilt, and Osamu’s guilt, but he’d never, _ever_ , blamed them, and he doesn’t want them to blame themselves.

There will still be the looks, and the words, and the pity, and some people who are clearly just _dicks_ , but he has Omi.

He has Omi, and his brother, and his team, and anyone, really, who he’d ever known through volleyball, and then he has the messages.

The good messages, the ones that say _thank you_ , and _you’ve been really brave_ , and more _thank you_ ’s, and that. _That_ is why he’d done it.

For the people like him, the people too scared to speak up, the people fighting their own battles, the people who need someone to speak up.

That is who he’d done it for.

Them, and… for seven year old him, a boy whose entire world had changed after that one moment, who hadn’t known what had happened, just that he hadn’t liked it.

Of course, some people, the _dicks_ , try to push it down, call him a liar, and a fraud, an attention seeker, and some of the news departments refuse to show his story. But word still gets out, into the world, and in fact it starts trending, which is… something.

He gets the word out, and he helps people, and it feels like the final step of his healing, peeling back this layer of himself and showing it to the world, no matter how terrifying.

The helping people, really, is just a bonus.

But that’s also why he’d done it in the first place.

For that seven year old boy inside of him, the confused and terrified and forever-changed one (the one like so many others out there).

Because he’s here, now, and he’s 26, almost 27, almost 20 years after, and he’s getting there.

He is _there_ , as close as anyone can ever get.

He’s ok, and it’s ok, and he’s _happy_.

Really happy.

And that’s ok.

Because the world is scary, and terrifying, and difficult, but he has his people and his Omi and his brother, and he’s talked it out.

There will still be bad days, but that’s ok, too, because everyone has their bad days, and that’s ok.

He’s ok.

And that’s all he needs, now.

To be ok, and to be with people.

That’s all he’s needed, for a long time.

And he’s here, and he’s alive, and he’s a sexual assault survivor, and a _survivor_ , and a _human being_ , and it’s ok.

It’s ok.

He’s ok.

He’s _happy_.

It’s more than he ever could have hoped for, really, to have people and a life and volleyball and Omi and Osamu and his team and the world and everyone else. To be ok.

His seven-year-old self mightn’t have believed it, and that’s the part that gets him, a few years later, the day he first works up the courage to rewatch his interview.

.

“Hi, everyone. Y'all might know me. I’m Miya Atsumu, the setter of the MSBY Black Jackals, a Div 1 team in Japan. And… I’m here, today, to talk about something very important, something that happened to me, a while ago, now. It’s something that I don’ think is talked about enough.” The him on the camera takes a breath, then, and he knows that he’s looking at Omi, standing behind the camera, who smiles at him and nods. On the camera, his eyes close, and then flutter open again. He takes a deep breath in sync with past-him.

“When I was seven-ish,” he says, making a so-so motion with his right hand, and then returning to having both hands gripping the microphone just a slight bit too hard. “My aunt had ta look after me for a few days, and on the second night she was lookin’ after me,” another deep breath, because that is how Omi had taught him, and how his therapist had taught him, and because of what he’s about to say.

“... she sexually assaulted me.”

He knows that as soon as past-him had said it, it felt like a weight fluttering off his chest (telling people, after he’d already said it a few times, to Omi and his therapist, but _this_ had still felt _different_ , because he was telling _anyone_ who cared enough to listen). Now it retightens his chest, for a second. Because he had been _seven_ , and he’d always known that, but it hadn’t really sunk in until just now, watching this interview for the first time since, and _properly_ , watching the whole thing. He pauses the video, rewinds it a bit, because he’d zoned out and missed a part, because he’d been _seven_ . Seven! What kind of woman- what kind of person- how- just _how_ \- how could she-

He sits there, for a while. The screen fades to black, and that’s when he snaps back to reality.

He presses play, again.

“I tell y'all this,” video-him says, “because sexualt assault - especially against anyone who isn’t a woman, by anyone who isn’t a man - happens. A lot more than it should. And often, it’s not talked about. And definitely it ain’t talked about enough for how often it happens.”

Past-Omi’s smiling at him, he knows, and it makes the him watching the video smile, and the him in the video pause for a second, looking at Kiyoomi, behind the screen, right there, like he’d been every day since, and quite a few before, too. The him he’s watching takes another deep breath, and then ploughs on.

“It changed my- my whole world, really. And there are a lotta other people out in the world who have been affected just like I was. An’ if you’re one of those people, I wanna tell ya that y’are strong, y’are powerful, and y’are worth a whole lot more than anyone’s ever made ya feel. An’, I know it’s scary - right now I’m about ta crap my pants, honestly - but telling people, whether they’re someone ya know ya can trust, or a therapist, or a school counselor, or a work counselor, or anyone else who cares enough. Telling people, it really helps. It’s absolutely terrifying, but it helps, after a while. And ya can do it. Ya can take that next step, whether that be telling someone, or telling the next person, or talkin’ ta someone, or even just getting up in the morning. Y'all can do it.”

Present-Atsumu pauses the video again, because he’d been seven, and that, now, _this_ is when he wonders just what his seven-year-old-self would think. Because, back then, he’d been so very confused, and so very hurt. And he hadn’t known quite _why_ , and it gets to him once again.

He’d been _seven_ \- and he… he had been a kid.

A kid.

What would he think of all this, he wonders, because he can remember when he’d finally found out what had happened to him, during that one sex-ed class when he was about thirteen, when he’d had to go to the bathroom and throw up everything inside him.

He’d gone home sick, and that remained to this day the only day he hadn’t at least _shown up_ to volleyball practice (because he hasn’t actually been sick in a while).

But when he’d found out, when he’d realised that she could have _raped him_ , had he not been able to get away, that what she had done was not just something he didn’t like but something inherently _wrong_ …

… when he’d found _that_ out… he’d felt sick, and then he _had_ been sick, because at thirteen it’d been six years since it’d happened, and it’d still felt like someone else, at the time.

Even now, seven-year-old him, the Before him, felt like a very different person to who he was now. Which was true, of course, because first of all he’d grown up, and second of all it had changed his entire outlook on the world (... maybe that should fit the other way around… after all… well. To be fair, both had happened at the same time. He’d just realised one before the other).

And the boy who’d been sexually assaulted by his aunt, that felt… almost twenty years on, that boy felt like he’d lived in a different world.

It almost didn’t seem quite real, what had happened. Even though he knew it was real.

It was real, and it’d happened, and that was why he’d talked about it. Because it was real. It was real, and it had happened, and it had happened to _him_ , when he was _seven_ , and people needed to know. 

People needed to know, whether that be for caution or to tell them they weren’t alone, or…

People needed to know.

That was why he’d done the interview, even when he was about to shit himself with terror.

He takes a deep breath, and presses play again.

“Hell, even now, I haven’t told my brother yet. This is kinda the only way I figured I _could_ tell him, because he wasn’t there and it wasn’t his fault, at all, and he couldn’t’a done anythin’, but I know he’ll feel like he could’a. Which ya couldn’t, ‘Samu, so shut yer trap.”

He snorts, in the now, because he knows why he’d said that, and it was true, but telling Osamu to shut up is always fun (but… had Osamu ever seen this part? He’s not sure. He’d called as soon as he could, he knows… hm. He hopes so. Why berate your brother on national television if he wasn’t gonna see it, huh?).

“I had someone I could tell, eventually. And after I did tell ‘im, it got a lot better. And he convinced me ta see a therapist, and that helped a lot, too.” Past-him doesn’t say Omi’s name, he knows, but he does smile at him behind the camera, and he knows Omi smiles right back. “So, that’s about it. Ya story deserves to be told, when y’are ready, and trust me when I say it gets better, a lot better, once ya do. A whole lot better.” Camera-him pauses, and current-him knows that it’s ‘cause this is almost the end. The timestamp at the bottom backs that up.

“It’s scary, and the world is scary, but not every person in the world is scary, ‘kay? There are some who are, but most of ‘em aren’t. Most of ‘em are good people, and there’ll be people who can help ya, if ya just let ‘em. Please let ‘em. Please let ‘em help ya. It’ll be ok, eventually. Trust me.”

Then, video-him smiles a little bit, just a little bit, and the screen fades to black, and now-Atsumu turns his phone off, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

He feels one last thing slip away, after watching it, and he smiles into the darkness of his room, even as a few tears make their way down to the floor.

_She_ is dead, and he is here, and he feels _free_.

Free from the grip she’d held on him ever since that day.

Free from the terror, and free from the confusion.

Free.

He feels _free_.

.

A while later, he will go out into the lounge, and Omi will be there, and he’ll thank him one last time, and then he’ll kiss him, on the mouth, something which they’d both talked about before, but never actually done.

And Omi will smile, and Omi will kiss him back (because his mysophobia has gradually calmed down, around Atsumu, and in general (always had, around him, really, somehow)), and they will be happy, together.

A lot later, Omi will propose to him, in front of everyone, but only for him to hear, and he will go bright red, and then smile wider than anyone’s ever seen him, and when he yells “yes!” and jumps on Kiyoomi, it’s really no question to anyone else what had happened.

After that, there will be congratulations, and, eventually, a wedding in which Osamu is his best man, and Motoya is Omi’s.

And then, there will be ups, and downs, and happiness, and a few fights, but that is how life goes, and in the end they are together, and he is free, and happy, and what more could he ask for, really?

.

(He’s totally won the bet, ‘Samu, take that-)

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I love everyone I write about-
> 
> I might, in future, write a sort of sequel to this from Osamu's point of view, though no promises, and if I did there'd only be vague hints of his story in this one, as it is now (unless I added stuff?) but Osamu's would have a bit of Atsumu's story in it too, 'cause it can certainly affect the people close to you, too. Especially if they knew you at the time.
> 
> The bet, by the way, is Osamu challenging Atsumu after high school, when he retires from volleyball, to who'll have a happier life till their deathbed (which is so them, i-).
> 
> Speaking of them, yes I do think Atsumu should'e told Osamu before he y'know found out on national television along with the whole rest of the world, but... grief is hard. Not an excuse, but... I'm not gonna condemn him for it. No one's perfect, and Atsumu knows he ain't.
> 
> I love y'all <3
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and stay safe out there!
> 
> Obsidian.


End file.
